Heartfelt Confessions
by asouldreams
Summary: After the battle of Hogwarts; Hermione confesses her feelings and Minerva replies, honestly. Turned into a series of vignettes spanning several yrs and confessions are had from the most unlikeliest of persons.
1. A heartfelt confession

Minerva unabashedly stared at the younger woman, disbelieving what she had said. Her own heart too afraid that the words were spoken in truth; and an overwhelming fear that they had not been. Seconds ticked by as her mind grappled with the seeming sincerity, the lush eyes, and her own turbulent thoughts…regarding what she felt for the woman who whilst beautiful, alluring, and incredibly intelligent was but a scant child compared to her.

Hermione blinked up to the venerable woman, tears starting to pull along the corner of her eyes knowing that each second that passed held less of a promise for their future…and she couldn't help her voice from slipping across her lips. "Minerva…"

Emerald eyes immediately dropped to the soft, inviting lips that heavenly spoke her name. "I…do care for you, Miss Granger." She found herself saying, meeting the now tear streaked chocolate gaze. "And I am flattered with your words, but…"

Hermione felt as though her world was closing in upon her, each delectable syllable uttered from those rose colored lips was like a nail thrust through her heart and into the coffin she felt as though being buried within. She had imagined this conversation so many times over the past two years, so many ways during the long nights while camping with Harry, that she had begun to envision the possibility as reality...and as Minerva's words continued on; the startling truth did not compare with what she had foreseen.

"It is, perhaps, best for you to seek companionship with those closer to your own age…"

Hermione never heard the rest of Minerva's words, as she spun upon her heel…a flurry of black robes trailing behind her as her own tears flooded down her face as anguish took hold of her heart and soul.

_A/N: Random thoughts that got scribbled down; comments, suggestions, should this be continued or not? _


	2. A repressed ache

A repressed ache…

Three years later…

She had attended out of necessity, and if she was honest with herself, it was obligation; as it would not due for the Head of Hogwarts to not attend a Ministry function. And as usual, she found herself surrounded by those seeking small talk, her personal assurances regarding Hogwarts and a sundry of ancillary bits of information, none of which brought meaning to the evening; quite the opposite. Yet, somehow, she had found herself face to face with one person who made all of the aforementioned as though it had been a welcome divergent. Hermione Granger.

She was even lovelier than the last time they had spoken, three years ago, when she had graduated from Hogwarts. Three years ago, when Hermione had asked her to alter the course of their relationship. And she had forestalled that notion; her own fears at being in a relationship with one so young, inexperienced…innocent had easily overshadowed any hope of something more.

"Hermione." She felt a warmth burn within her depths as brown eyes blinked and landed upon her own; the mild shock within Hermione's gaze at seeing her standing there was masked within a heartbeat. "It has been a long time." Green eyes swept over the younger woman, the cut of her dress was simple, elegant…a long champagne colored gown with thin straps resting upon her fine collarbone as it tapered down her chest and sides before flaring out along the bottom of her legs. She extended her hand outward, a steady grasp upon her fingers, "You look lovely."

Hermione dropped the elder witch's hand, eyes reveling in the fact that the Headmistress had shed her usual robes and was standing before her in an emerald silk gown that seemed to hug her body as though it had become a second skin. She couldn't help but take a small step forward, voice involuntarily whispering. "As do you." She let her eyes meaningfully drop from Minerva's to that of her body, her gaze hungrily devouring how milky white her skin appeared….

Minerva could feel a surge of heat burst through her system as brown eyes swept across her body, and for a moment, she forgot that she was the Head of Hogwarts, forgot that she had long ago mastered the demure but rather stone-wall reserve that few if any ever got through, forgot that she was fifty years her senior...as the ability to speak momentarily fled her senses. And before she could recover, before she could say anything of meaning…red hair swam within her vision…

"Hermione," Ron stated as his hand slid up the small of her back, bringing her a shade closer to him, and enabling him to see who she was conversing with; and he couldn't help but smile…for he should have known, it was none other than… "Professor McGonagall."

Despite the intimate gesture, her eyes remained fixed upon Minerva...absorbing every ounce of unguarded bits of information that had passed between them; as she knew whose hand drifted up her back, pulling her closer to him and farther from where she desired. And from the smoldering gaze and hint of red upon Minerva's cheeks, the feeling she had long since thought was not mutual had been overwhelmingly cast aside. It was mutual. Very mutual. But then she watched as the wall that usually defined Minerva McGonagall snapped back into place as soon as Ron's words fluttered across the air; closing off the woman beneath and she felt as she had all those years ago, standing in the hallway, barely a few scant feet away, drowning in a froth of blood from the nails being torn through her heart.

"Please, Ronald." Minerva felt her world come back into focus as she forced a smile upon her face, extending her hand, "Call me, Minerva." Her eyes remained upon his, though her heart yearned to cast a glance to the woman on his left; wanting to understand the wanton pull she evoked over her normally staunch will.

With ease he took her hand, "How's Hogwarts?"

"Little has changed other than the sea of faces that greet me in the morning." She replied, drawing a smile from his companion, and her heart lifted…while she mentally remained cognizant that _this_ feeling, whatever, _this _feeling was had disaster etched upon the very wind that had brought the angel a scant meter away. "Kingsley speaks very highly of both you and Mister Potter in the Auror division."

Hermione felt Ron's possessive grip immediately ease as he began to animatedly answer Minerva's question, and she too, found herself rap with attention; not about what she had said, rather the context of the statement. That, while, not remaining entwined in their everyday lives or even seemingly apparent in their lives; she had asked about them, maintained working knowledge of their careers, and who knew what else. And Hermione found herself, if at possible, drawn even more to the enigmatic woman. She had always thrived on mysteries, and the greatest one she had ever come across, had quietly guided and mentored her through the perils of Hogwarts and friendship, had been there the day Viktor had asked her out, forced herself to see the world for the possibilities and not the shambles it had become, prompted her to seek Ron out just prior to Dumbledore's death; she had given so much and yet…had asked for so little in return. And then there was the summer between her sixth and seventh year; she had asked for Minerva's tutelage on a far more personal matter regarding how to cast a memory charm without causing permanent harm.

It was a conversation that had burned its way into her memory, not because of the words, rather the action that had been taken that afternoon upon the fabled grounds of Hogwarts; action caused by her startling revelation of what she along with Harry and Ron were going to try and do and why she so desperately needed Minerva's assistance. She had expected Minerva to be irate, to hear her deep Scottish brogue reverberate off the walls, but none of the fury came only quiet solitude as emerald eyes remained fixed upon hers for several long minutes and then Minerva slowly turned from her…her gait deliberate but poignant as the silence between them stretched out farther as Minerva came to a stop as her long, fingers and tapered nails ran across the stone ledge while her face stared out upon the grounds, remaining hidden from Hermione's view.

It was at that point that Hermione realized how much she truly didn't know about Minerva McGonagall. Yes, she knew what everyone else knew, how could you not, she was Minerva McGonagall; one of the most powerful witches in Britain, with a biography almost as long as Albus Dumbledore's, a walking legend…who taught at their school, alongside of Dumbledore…but, did that mean she knew or even understood who the woman was? Yes, she had spent countless hours with Minerva, talking of her studies, dreams, even her friends; but what had been shared in return? And as that question rung throughout her head, Hermione realized the startling truth, that nothing had been shared that had already not been known.

And her world became irrevocably altered as the minutes passed, the broad daylight streaming in upon…Hermione blinked, as she saw Minerva. Truly saw her….and the stern features she so often equated to Minerva McGonagall; the drawn lips, narrowed almost hawk like eyes, even the rigidity of her back…melted away; revealing a softness, a warmth that struck to Hermione's heart. She marveled at the transformation that seemingly took place before her eyes, as though Minerva herself, was practicing transfiguration upon her own person. Minerva had always seemed larger than life, able to withstand the fury of madness that had encompassed their world and emerge unscathed, but…there, standing only a few feet away, Hermione began to realize how utterly untrue her belief was. She, along with the entire wizarding world, had placed Minerva on a pedestal…right beside Dumbledore; and as the proud shoulders seemingly to have sunk over an inch…a troubled, brewing expression clouding her normally clear emerald eyes, as her lips curled into a subtle frown.

_"And…" Minerva paused, as she took another breath, "Am I to presume that the boys do not know that you have come here today?" _

_ Hermione continued to stare at the venerable woman who had yet to turn back towards her, "They don't know that I am here." She fought the overbearing urge to fiddle with her hands. "And can't."_

_ At the heartfelt admission, Minerva's gaze was pulled away from the grounds to her and she couldn't help the slight gasp from slipping past her lips at the sheer emotion emanating from the green pools staring at her. "And yet you are here."_

_ "I can't tell you…" Hermione felt her words stop in her throat as Minerva raised her hand…but it was the sound of her name upon Minerva's lips that entranced her._

_ "Don't, Hermione." She quietly stated as her rich ancestry laced the brogue in her words. "Because, that way, if something happens to me, I won't know."_

_ Hermione balked at Minerva's words, once again finding her voice. "Nothing will happen to you." Hermione continued on, "You'll be here, at Hogwarts." She could hear the tremor in her cadence as she finished, "Safe."_

_ "No one is safe, dear." Minerva said a light smile upon her lips. "Especially, here."_

_ "But, this is Hogwarts…"_

_ "And changes are in motion," Minerva waved her hand, "Enough." She sighed, "I will conduct the memory charm…"_

_ "But you just said that if something happened…"_

_ "I will conduct the memory charm," She began again, brow arching to Hermione, as though daring her to interrupt again and clearly evident that she would not be discussing the perils coming to Hogwarts any less with her than Hermione would be sharing the dangers she, Harry and Ron would be facing this coming year. "And leave the room, on one condition."_

_ Hermione felt her head shaking, "I can't tell you…"_

_ "I'm not asking you to tell me where you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are heading off to; undoubtedly it is linked with Mr. Potter's trips with Albus and the Horcruxes."_

_ "You know of the Horcruxes?" Hermione questioned feeling light-headed._

_ "Of course." Minerva's typical, non-sensible cadence ringing through the room._

_ Hermione felt her mouth open, no question coming out…as she stood dumbfounded and staring at Minerva unabashedly. "…."_

_ "The condition."_

_ Hermione felt herself nod in response._

_ "A communiqué once a month, letting me know that you and your peers are alright."_

_ "I can't…" Hermione stammered, "There is no way that I'll be able to send letters…"_

_ A genuine smile crossed Minerva's lips, "There are other means to communicate with people, other than letters."_

_ "Like the books Sirius gave Harry…"_

_ "Similar but no." Minerva replied, "Are the terms agreeable?"_

_ "As long as you don't ask me where we are and what we are doing?"_

_ Green eyes met brown ones, and she gave an infinitesimal shake of her head in affirmation. "Let me know when you wish to alter your parents' memories."_

_ Relief swelled through her veins, "Thank you…" Hot tears streaming down her cheeks. "Min…erva." She murmured…feeling oddly at ease using her Professor's first name._

_ "You are welcome, Hermione." Minerva whispered as she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Hermione's slender frame, giving her the solace she so desperately needed as the magnitude of what she was about to embark upon with her friends and do to her parents, for protection, crashed into reality._

_At some point, it had been too much for her to bear, and she had passed out…waking the following morning, in McGonagall's living area of her suite, with only a note by way of greeting. Hermione didn't feel comfortable exploring her professor's private chambers to see if she was within, and had taken the note and read its contents…surprised that the normally reserved and distant Professor had addressed the letter…informally._

_Xoxo_

_Hermione,_

_ At your earliest convenience, please let me know the date and time to meet you at your parents' home as I will need to make some arrangements guaranteeing a few hours of privacy; since Albus' death, my movements and guests are tracked far more closely. Do be careful, there are shadows admist every turn, as you are Harry's friend._

_ If you are hungry, ask for Brax, and he shall bring you some breakfast. _

_ Minerva_

_Xoxo_

Hermione found herself nodding at what Ron had said, realizing she had at some point in the past several seconds lost track of the conversation as her mind had wondered and cast a glance towards Minerva trying to discern how much she had missed; and found herself meeting striking green, knowing eyes that held a hint of a smirk beneath as though the other woman knew she had been reminiscing.

"I'm sorry Ronald," Minerva's gaze flickered back to Hermione for the briefest of moments as she acknowledged the breathtaking witch. "Hermione, however," She pulled her eyes across the floor towards the Minister of Magic, "I need to speak with Kingsley. It was a pleasure to see each of you, and…" Minerva found eyes wanting to return to the woman only a scant meter away, to see the warm chocolate gaze fixated upon her, and despite not wanting to give in to the feeling; Minerva's pulse incrementally jolted as her eyes involuntarily slid to Hermione's and her breath lodged in her throat and the rest of the words came out in a breathless whisper. "Please don't be strangers."

Ron easily replied, "We won't." He leaned forward reaching out and wrapped an arm around their former Professor. "And it was good to see you too."

Minerva returned his embrace with a warm one of her own. "And you." She replied as she leaned back and turned to Hermione…

Who was already reaching outward and at the warmth of their conact, Minerva felt her breath hitch in response and a flood of emotion pulsed through her; while Hermione involuntarily tightened her grip along the other woman's waist wanting to remain close, relishing the feeling, knowing that it was ill-timed, but was seemingly powerless to move away.

But all too soon a cool air began to seep between them, as Minerva pulled away, a molten warmth staring into deep hazel eyes; and before Hermione could formulate a word, a rich smile curled scarlet lips, crinkling the corners of enigmatic eyes as the woman spun away and her lithe form was lost almost instantly in the sea of bodies rekindling an ache long since repressed.

Xoxo

"Hermione?" Ron frowned at her lack of response. "Hey," He reached over, hand sliding along her arm, "You alright?"

"I'm sorry, just…" She feigned a small smile, "Thinking." She answered honestly, "What were you saying?"

Blue eyes narrowed in concern, "You sure you're alright?"

Hermione gave him a reassuring smile, "Quite." _And more than a little confused_, she thought regarding the encounter, albeit brief one, with Minerva that had brought feelings and memories back that she thought she had long since moved past. _Obviously not_, she thought trying to remain focused upon Ron's commentary and away from the image of the enticing woman who had graced her presence for the first time in years.

He stared into her brown eyes a moment more before retracing the last few sentences with her, "I was just saying how nice it was to see everyone."

Hermione nodded, "Yes, it was."

"Ya know," His words becoming mildly garbled as he swallowed another glass of wine. "McGonagall wasn't all bad…"

Hermione couldn't help her own face from breaking into a smile as she replied. "No, she's not."

Xoxo

_A/N: Might try something new with this story; a compilation of stand alones based upon one theme/storyline. As always, feedback is most welcome._


	3. Splinch

Chapter 2 ~ Splinch

Just over 18 months (1.5 yrs) later

Absently, Minerva began unfastening her traveling cloak as she stepped towards the back of Hog's Head; intent on disappearing from the world for an hour even two. To say the last fifty-six hours had been tedious would have been kind.

"How's the search goin'?" Aberforth asked as he set a glass of whisky on the table. The Prophet and Kingsley's picture glaring at her, along with the headline – Minister of Magic Kidnapped.

Weary green eyes gave the whole of her answer, causing his shoulders to sink marginally too. "Leave the bottle." She flipped her hat off on to the bench seat not willing to comment farther. She was too tired.

"Minerva…" He felt his words falter as she pierced him with her eyes, and he found himself conceding to her wishes. "Very well, but if ya splinch, it will not be my fault."

"Such faith." She quipped, already raising the glass as he merely shook his head as he walked back to the empty bar.

"Has naught to do with faith, Minerva." He retorted looking at his exhausted friend, "Merely fact. You are tired and have no business with a drink in your hand or at the back of your gullet."

"Ahh…" She poured herself a second measure, "If I had wanted to hear false concern, I'd just as soon return to Hogwarts." She remarked causing him to hold up his hands in defeat.

"Then drink your poison, I only ask for one question to be answered in exchange for my silence."

A rueful smile passed across her lips as she felt the alcohol warm its way through her stomach; eyes twinkling against the firelight. "Ask your questions Aberforth, before I care not whether I answer."

Aberforth outright chuckled at the normally reserved woman, they had a strange friendship that had survived three wars and his brother. "Do you wish the loft or a call to your Deputy this evening?"

She knocked back the last of her second drink, "I shall make my way to Hogwarts." She said, partially offended at his question. She was after all, only going to finish off _one_ bottle tonight. Not that two or three didn't sound better. As at that many, she might forget the events leading up to Kingsley's kidnapping; and why she was here to begin with.

Without thought, she poured herself a third drink; and hastily lifted her eyes from the mahogany table – the hue was too close to _hers_.

And dear Merlin what a mess _that _was.

Her legendary willpower having faltered for only a heartbeat. But, it had faltered. Irrevocably and flamboyantly faltered.

She still couldn't recall what they had been discussing; it was of little import now.

Emerald eyes stared into the amber liquid, and she found if she concentrated she could still feel the way _her_ heated breath tickled across her skin as brown eyes became lidded and instinctively she leaned forward and gently brushed moist lips. It was tentative. It had been spontaneous, catching both women by surprise. However, before she had been able to collect herself or her thoughts, Hermione leaned into her; momentarily seizing her lips with unbridled passion eliciting a moan from her depths. Before a wide-eyed, Hermione Granger stepped back; brown eyes holding a mix of lust and anguish, tears already sliding down her cheeks.

_"After all these years, why now?" She cried out in a harsh tone._

_ "Hermione I…didna mean…"_

She had not been at her most poetic at that very moment, or expressive regarding her own feelings. Her mind still reeling from her action and momentary lapse in judgment, however as Hermione's hand made contact with her cheek; her lightening thought process finally sludged forward – but it was too late. Hermione had already turned and was four paces a way, leaving behind a stunned woman with a welt as a reminder for her momentary lack of grace.

That had been - just over three days ago.

And only hours before an alert had gone through the Ministry and the old Order members; Kingsley having been kidnapped.

She had somehow found the blasted trail and followed until the last apparation had caused her to do what Aberforth had feared. Splinch. Not bad. She had cast a few spells to staunch the blood and it would hold for a few more drinks. She'd have it treated upon returning to Hogwarts.

She finished off her third drink, immediately filling the barren glass with another. After all, it wasn't the pain from the splinch that had brought her here, or that she had lost the damn trail after following it for over fifty hours; but the reason behind her splinch had driven her to the amber poison she so willingly drank.

And she had no idea on how to rectify her problem. For she had tasted her sweet lips and now, she couldn't stop thinking about them.

"Damn." She murmured to herself, causing Aberforth to glance towards her.

"Don't worry, Minerva. I'm sure you'll find them."

With a heavy sigh, she downed the fourth glass and stood. _He was right, she'd find them. That's what she did, find people. Her animagus traits made her an ideal tracker. But, that wasn't what worried her. Because, somewhere along the line – it seemed that Hermione had not only found her, but found a way to her. She feared, all the way to her heart; and she didn't know how that it happened, only that it had. _Her right arm grabbing her cloak, "That's what I'm afraid of." She threw a small bag of coin onto the counter.

"Good night, Aberforth." She slipped on her cloak.

He frowned, "Is that blood?" He went to step from around the counter, but her prickly demeanor stopped him.

"It's already been sorted." She gave a nod in farewell and was gone, wishing her own thoughts were as _easily _sorted as the brisk fall air touched her skin.

Xoxo

_A/N: Finally got over the small writer's block I had regarding this story. _


	4. Antithesis

Chapter 3

While she didn't feel as though she was shaking, however the rhythmic discord created as the decanter clinked against her glass indicated otherwise. She didn't remember lifting it to her lips or that she drank the whole of its contents in a singular gulp; her eyes were still resting on the impeccably well written letters that could have only been penned by one person despite not having been signed. It hadn't needed to be. She'd have known _her _hand writing anywhere, even before she read the contents. How could she not have? She spent six years as a student in _her_ classroom, received countless letters as a Prefect in _her_ house and above all – had received small notes throughout her very long and arduous year while with Harry and Ron in a mirroring page. Ink written on one page would transfer to the holder of the page opposite.

And while she still recalled most of the letters and notes ever written to her; the letter lying before her was unlike any of the others. The contents were threatening to burn themselves into her mind's eye after only one reading.

A reading she couldn't help but to replicate as she gave into the alluring note, eyes already drinking in the elegant verbiage that tore through the scant wall protecting her heart. Because, her mind _wanted _to commit these precious words to her memory, and burn them into her soul; lest she be dreaming.

_Hermione,_

_ In truth, I had no intention of divulging what lies within this letter. You are a prior student and decades my junior; and recently engaged to Mr. Weasley. However, following recent events, I was inclined to inform you regarding the impetus of my behavior. You. The way your eyes capture the light and how your mood causes the pigment of your irises to lighten or darken; how your hair frames your face; or the way my name sounds as it falls from your lips – your very presence seems to be the antithesis of my willpower. _

_ There are no words to describe the lush feel of your lips as they brushed against mine. Or that it has taken several years for me to acknowledge that the tension existing between us is mutual. Or that I should have found a way past my babbling incoherencies the other evening and told you what I should have years prior – I care for you, far more than I ever should. I daresay I could have fallen in love with you. _

_ And for that I offer my profoundest apologies._

Because, while she didn't state she was in love with her; she did state that she could fall in love with her.

And that is all that mattered to Hermione – a chance at love.

* * *

_A/N: It'll be another week before Bonding is updated, sorry. Hope you enjoyed!_


	5. Chances

Chapter 4 - Chance

Minerva momentarily gripped the edge of her door frame, willing the world to stop spinning as she leaned against the corner; her fingers deftly tying her robe about her waist. And with feigned fortitude, she pushed herself upright and opened the door – appearing as she needed to, the Headmistress of Hogwarts as a sea of brown washed before her causing her heart to falter.

In retrospect, she should have been expecting a knock upon her door after sending the letter. She should have realized that Hermione would come to see her. She should have realized Hermione wouldn't have waited.

However, just because she should have been ready; did not mean that she was.

After all, she had the written the letter upon returning to Hogwarts and promptly falling asleep; not having even taken the time to see Poppy and heal her side. She had just been too tired.

"I'm sorry," Hermione's voice pulling Minerva's scattered mind to the present, "I didn't mean to wake you. But I was hoping to speak with you."

Minerva stilled her nerves and the quaking in her stomach at the conversation that would undoubtedly ensue, "Do come in." She stepped aside, permitting Hermione entrance to her private suite, the gargoyle slowly closing behind her. She watched as the younger woman paused, eyes quickly scanning the contents of her living space; it was a large oval room that at its northerly apex had a brass staircase that lead to her office, the eastern walls held two doors – one leading to a small kitchen the other her private office; the southerly apex held a door that led to her bedroom and bathroom while the westerly wall had a second small bedroom with its own facilities and the weathered door that led to the gargoyle. Of course, Hermione could not tell what lay behind each door; for which she was thankful. It was rare for her to be upstairs and receive guests in what she had long ago become accustomed to _her_ living area.

Unlike the office below where she had to greet countless dignitaries, officials and even the Queen of Britain; these rooms were her sanctuary. Only her closest friends and a few long tenured colleagues had been to her living area. Her life becoming more and more akin to how Albus' once was; _alas, the man I once knew has been buried behind the man personified as Albus Dumbledore._

The adrenaline coursing through her system was helping to negate the after effects of Aberforth's less than savory whisky and stymie the pain pulsing in her side as she sat opposite of Hermione, carefully wrapping the edge of her robe over her legs as she met trepid brown eyes.

"The letter…"

A crescendo thrum burst across Minerva's hearing, blanketing out the noise for a moment.

"…you wrote this evening; I…" Hermione's voice faltered, jaw clenching as she leaned forward a bit more and cleared her throat, willing herself to finish the sentence. Even if it meant that the nails pounded into her coffin all those years ago would finally pierce her heart. "Have to know, if there is a chance for us? And if you'd be willing to try?"

* * *

Oxox

_A/N: Here's another snippet in this tale. As always, I hope you enjoyed and see ya all soon._


	6. Anything But Ready

Chapter 5 ~ Anything but ready…

Minerva stared at Hermione, unblinking and unmoving – knowing that she may indeed have had to face these very questions when she wrote the letter did not mean she herself was ready for them. In truth, quite the opposite.

She was anything but ready.

She had a splitting headache, was exhausted beyond measure, her side ached with abandon from her momentary diversion last night that had caused her to splinch and ultimately spurred her to write the letter that had placed her in the untenable situation she was now in.

However, over the course of her life she had long since learned that there were very few things one had time to prepare for; especially concerning what you _wish_ you had time to prepare for.

Her internal musings offered little comfort to the question waiting to be answered. A question that she herself currently didn't know how to respond to. Either response was seemingly easy – merely singular syllable words; some of the first words you learn as a child. Though no matter which way she responded, she felt as though – she'd be damned. Whether it be her heart or her soul.

Still, brown eyes were staring at her; waiting for an answer she wasn't ready or able to give.

And yet – she had to.

"I…" She deflected from Hermione's primary question. "Am of course flattered." She held up her hand, forestalling any further questions or comments from the woman opposite, as her back marginally straightened and she pushed herself to answer the question for which she had no answer. At least no good answer. "But, I must ask; if you realize what you are asking, Hermione?" At her startled look she begrudgingly went forward, "I am the Headmistress of Hogwarts and while not enslaved to the school; I do spend nine months of my life here. I am decades, not years; older than you. And outside of transfiguration, where do our commonalities lie? And while I find your company, incredibly enticing; I have to wonder if your perceived attraction is a misguided belief of who you think I am as you know so little about me."

"Do I know what I am asking?" She shook her head, "No. As you are correct. I know very little about you. I know you are the Headmistress of Hogwarts and decades older; but I still find your company enthralling. I can't explain it, no matter how hard I have tried over the years; and trust me Minerva, I _have _tried. And that is what I am asking;" She edged incrementally forward, "An opportunity for you to know me and me…to meet the woman behind the enigmatic Hogwart's Headmistress whom I am mutually attracted too. Even though, Merlin do I wish I wasn't. Because, while I don't know what complications a potential relationship or even deeper friendship between us would mean for you; I know the pitfalls that await me and they are vast and deep. However, despite the aforementioned…" She reached out, shaky fingers brushing along the edge of Minerva's jaw, "I want to try." She pulled back, voice barely a whisper. "The question is whether or not you do?"

"It isn't about trying, my dear." She winced upon moving back, words leaving her mouth in a gasp. "And I fear that I am not in a position to make a decision - " Her left hand innately reached over grabbing her right side, a gush of warmth coated her fingers.

"Minerva, what's the ma…" Hermione didn't have to finish her question as crimson blood oozed over long milky fingers. She felt herself standing while altering her previous question into a statement. "I'll get Poppy."

Minerva's fingers tightened over the area, "No need." She whispered, "The elves have already alerted her."

"When were you injured?" Hermione stepped around the table that had separated them, about to lean down; but Minerva's imperceptible shake of her head halted any further movement.

"I splinched." Minerva could feel beads of perspiration running down the back of her neck, "Earlier this evening."

"And you didn't get it treated?" Hermione admonished.

"That doesn't surprise me," Poppy answered as she finished climbing the steps, drawing both women's gaze. "Although, you being here does." Poppy stated without preamble, her eyes momentarily resting upon Hermione before sliding to Minerva. "Now it looks as if it's along your rib cage," She eyed the piece of furniture, "You'll have lie down so I can treat the area." She already had her wand out and before Minerva could utter a protest, she found herself sitting on the floor and the chesterfield the size of a pea.

"Confound it all, Poppy." She snapped the pain in her side throbbed in protest to the sudden movement, not counting the bruise that would undoubtedly be gracing her posterior.

"Sorry." Poppy went to raise her wand again, but Hermione's hand was already moving and in the next blink; Minerva was lying on a queen sized bed.

Hermione probably would have laughed outright at the situation, had Minerva not been in pain. It was obvious that transfiguration was not Poppy's specialty. Hermione grabbed one of the pillows off the chair, placing it behind Minerva trying to ignore the way her robe had shifted, exposing more creamy skin.

"Now, if you'd …" Poppy's words died off as Minerva turned to Hermione.

"I shall owl you." Minerva's impeccable dialect had been replaced by a heavily laced brogue. "To answer your question."

"If you feel the need to owl me; then I believe I know the answer already." Hermione whispered, feeling tears threaten to spill from her eyes.

"Hermione I…" Another bout of pain stopped Minerva's commentary, her fingers tightening across her side as she fell upon her right arm.

"Whatever the two of you were and are still discussing, it's over. And while I thank you for your help, Hermione; please see yourself out." Poppy pointed towards the door, "Minerva needs to be treated, not agitated."

Hermione knew she should leave, could feel herself want to move that way; but her eyes slid past Poppy and to Minerva's pale form – their gazes locking and she felt the forbidden truth fall from her lips, barely loud enough to reach her own ears and hardly loud enough to even be called a whisper. "I love you. Always have."

* * *

Oxox

_A/N: The good news – have had a few minutes to write; the bad news for those wanting an update on Bonding, it wasn't on it. The better news, you can expect several updates to this story over the next week._


	7. Resigned

Chapter 6 ~ Resigned

Two days had gone by and still no word. Hermione was resigned as there would be no happy ending. And from Minerva's look the other evening, it brought little comfort to know that while their feelings may be mutual; the divide between them was not truly surmountable.

No matter how much she wished it was.

Minerva had been right.

It wasn't.

Not only was their the vast difference in age, but probably in passions and Merlin knew what else; because she certainly didn't know much about the Scottish witch; she doubted many did.

Leaving Hermione to wonder who the woman truly called - friend.

Shaking her head to banish the thoughts and hopefully the woman behind them, she stepped into her kitchen; summoning the Prophet. She idly opened it while pouring milk into her coffee; eyes instantly reading the headlines upon seeing the very woman she had been thinking about.

_Headmistress Saves Minister_

Both Minerva and Kingsley looked worn and exhausted; lines upon both their faces showing the level of their fatigue despite their relief. Her eyes, however, remained momentarily upon Minerva; mind immediately conjuring up reasons as to why she hadn't contacted her. After Poppy's assistance the other evening; she obviously resumed her search for Kingsley and hadn't had time…

The splash onto the floor caused her eyes to jerk over and hand upward, "Shit." She muttered at her milky mess that was all over the counter and rapidly dripping onto the tile.

* * *

oxox

_A/N: Never said I played fair._


	8. Hopes Dashed

Chapter 7 ~ Hopes Dashed

Minerva drew her robe about her, feeling utterly foolish as she stepped to the window's ledge in her room. Eyes casting upon the immaculate grounds that were beginning to show the first signs of fall; the tips of the great deciduous trees becoming golden, orange and even a smattering of fiery red; the brisk air streaming from the north signifying that winter would soon follow and the soothing visage offered little comfort to her own soul.

She hadn't known what she had been hoping for, however, a lonely room and silence had definitely not been it.

She had sent the letter only hours after Hermione had left and once she had awakened again. A letter she hadn't believed herself capable of writing and now wishing she hadn't. She had spoken from the heart; and had hoped it to be answered by the time she returned after her next foray in helping to find Kingsley.

However, hopes do not equate reality.

There had been no note. No surprise visit upon her return. Nothing to suggest anything other than…a truth she had not wanted to believe; but a truth that none the less.

The attraction between them, was merely that; an attraction. It lacked substance and meaning. She had been wrong to believe it meant anything more to her. Should have discounted her thoughts and perceptions from the night Hermione had visited; she had been in pain, partially drunk and in no state to use what she believed to be for what obviously wasn't.

Her lips curled into a frown as she recalled Hermione's eyes locking with hers; the chill running down her spine at the emotion and dare she have believed love – and the whispered words that graced her ears. Words so soft it had seemed to be upon the very air; only her animagus senses had picked up the faint noise; but she could have sworn she had heard it. Had bet her heart on it two evenings ago – _'I love you. Always have.'_

_How could I have been so wrong?_ Minerva thought feeling the first of many tears falling off her lashes and wetting her face; thankful that she had discovered the root of Hermione's true feelings before the young woman had stolen any more of her heart.

* * *

xoxo

_A/N: Bet you are wondering where the letter has gone. As always, hope you enjoyed._


	9. Exorcise

Chapter 8 ~ Exorcise

Three months had passed until the next time their paths crossed; the Ministry's annual gala signifying the end of Voldemort's terror. There were no warm words exchanged or brief hugs; merely a brief greeting followed by an even hastier farewell. It was an oddity easily discerned by Harry, Ginny and even Ron; given that in the past the two had commiserated for far greater lengths of time and always seemed to have a natural chemistry derived from their love of knowledge in conjunction with transfiguration.

"What's with you and McGonagall?" Ginny questioned as soon as Harry and Ron were out of ear shot.

Hermione shook her head, "Nothing." She tried to remain nonchalant as she in turn questioned Ginny. "Why?"

"Don't." Ginny shook her head, "Even try." She pulled Hermione's arm to her as she stepped closer. "Remember it's me." She hissed, "Not Harry, Ron, or anyone else; but _me._ Now, what gives?"

"We…I…" She pushed the tears away, trying to focus on her life now. "It really doesn't matter Gin."

"It matters to me."

"Well," Hermione let her gaze sweep across the expanse and stop upon the woman who no matter how hard she tried to exorcise from her heart; remained. "It doesn't to me."

Ginny stared at her friend and felt her heart sink, she seemed so unhappy. "I still don't believe you," Her comment drew a piercing stare from brown eyes. "Just remember if you ever need to talk…"

"Thank you, dear." She whispered, beginning to adopt one of many phrases from the woman who was so much more than a mentor but dare she utter the word, was once a friend. Ron and Harry returned only moments later, and only twice more throughout the night did her eyes search out the ebony haired witch. However, as with her heart; she hadn't been able to find her.

* * *

A/N: I never said I had a heart. Though, to ease the 'heart ache' I'll be posting a drabble per day.


	10. A Letter's Home

Chapter 9 ~ A Letter's Home

Thankfully, the children were in Hogwarts when Ron had received a call from his father; Molly had been severely injured. He stopped by the Burrow the following day to check for mail for his parents; and upon accio-ing the mail - was surprised when an old letter addressed to Hermione sailed into his hand from the depths of the house.

Frowning he re-read the name.

Hermione Granger.

_ What was a letter doing here for Hermione? With her last name?_ And from the yellowing, it was easy to discern that it had been here for years. Not counting, he recognized the writing. _Kingsley? No, _he shook his head,_ McGonagall._ Flipping it over, he easily ascertained that he had been correct; it bore Hogwarts coat of arms along with her personal seal. Hogwarts and her seal…meant that it had to be at least three years old if not older; as she had retired from Hogwarts after Rose's first year. And – she had addressed it with Hermione's maiden name; so…that meant it was probably closer to twenty years versus three.

Shrugging, he slipped it into his cloak along with the rest of the mail before grabbing his father a fresh set of robes and apparating back to St. Mungos.

_

* * *

_

_A/N: Well, you found the letter…albeit slightly later than I'm sure you or they would have liked._


	11. The Rippling Effect

The Ripple Effect

"Oh," Ron jammed his hand into his robes, "Here." He extended the yellowing letter outward. "When I stopped by mum and dad's to get the mail; this was in it too."

Hermione reached out, frowning as she took the letter. "That's odd."

Ron bobbed his head up and down as he tore off another chunk of cheese, "I thought so too." He nodded to the letter as Hermione glanced at it. "Looks as though it's from McGonagall and as it's addressed to you as Granger; Merlin knows how long it's been there."

Hermione went to slit the seal but despite it appearing sealed, it had been opened. "Did you open it?" She asked as she pulled the letter from the envelope.

"No, why?"

"The seal's been slit."

"Huh, maybe mum…" He swallowed, "Opened it not realizing it was yours." He went to leave the room; but stopped as Hermione's face went ashen. "'Mione?" He strode towards her, "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"I…" Tear filled eyes lifted up from the letter, "I…ah…" She shook her head, "Was wrong." She finally managed to say, "For all these years."

"Wrong, about what?" He asked trying to understand.

"I…" She took first one step backwards and then another, "Need to go."

"Where?"

Her fingers tightened along the edge of the parchment, "To Minerva's." She whispered, "I'll…ah…" She found blue eyes and her heart melted, "Be back."

"Hermione, what's in that letter?"

Hermione shook her head, tears slipping unbidden down her face. "A confession."

"Huh?"

She couldn't explain, not now. Not yet. She needed to see Minerva. Now. Even if it had been after all these years. Heedless of her actions and the subsequent consequences, Hermione left her home and without thought; apparated to the beautiful grounds that signified McGonagall Manor. Her eyes sweeping over the visage; it was much like its owner – timeless.

She strode forward, the gates locking mechanism instantly pulling apart as if sensing her urgency; but a diminutive house elf appeared only feet in front of her destination.

"What business do you have here?"

"My name is Hermione Weasley, and I was hoping to speak with Minerva regarding a personal matter."

"I am afraid the Lady of the Manor is not at home."

Hermione glanced past the elf to the great Manor, letting her eyes rove over the windows and ivy; sensing that the woman she wished to see was in fact in residence today. "Please, I need to see her."

"Then I suggest you come back."

Hermione took a singular step backwards, hands coming up from her sides as she bellowed outwards, "I JUST GOT YOUR LETTER, PLEASE MINERVA…" Her voice broke, "Please…"

* * *

oxox

* * *

"How was Edinburgh Miss?" Tily asked the Lady upon her return.

"Busier than I recall." Minerva stated as she peeled her hat off, "Remind me again why I went?"

Tily couldn't help but smile at the Lady. "You is been needing to leave this drafty Manor."

"Ahhh, yes now I recall; I had been coercively forced to leave my own home." Her eyes twinkled, "Now, anything of note happen these last few days?"

"No," Tily stated, "A Mr. Shacklebolt stopped by as did Mr. Filius and a Mrs. Hermione Weasley."

"Did Hermione say why she was here?"

"To do with personal matters and something about a letter." She continued on failing to notice how Minerva's face momentarily fell, "I'se checked your mail and it seems that you have a note from the Weasley family that Mrs. Molly Weasley is in St. Mungos in critical condition."

Minerva banished her purchases and sundry other items to her rooms; she'd sort them out later. "Thank you Tily, I'll be at St. Mungos for a few hours and not be home for dinner."

"We can put on stew Ma'am."

"If you feel the need to do so, make it an easy meal that keeps." Minerva replied before striding back through the Manor entry way and down the manicured lawns to visit and comfort the Weasley family.

* * *

A/N: Letter finally got delivered...


	12. A Word In Private

Chapter 11 ~ A Word in Private

Hermione was startled to see Minerva stride through the doors, her breath hitching at the sight of the woman she had tried to visit with less than 24 hours prior.

She vaguely heard the chorus of hellos and well wishes; along with a summary of her mother-in-laws prognosis. A prognosis that was of little relevance to Hermione; because the woman lying on the bed had irrevocably altered her life twenty years ago. She didn't know all of the details, but knew enough of the facts to piece together what had transpired.

Minerva had sent the letter at some point that evening; she recalled having gone to the Burrow to talk with Ron about ending their engagement. The letter must have been delivered and for whatever reason; Molly had received it…opened it and read it.

And what a letter to have read. It still brought her heart to a flutter just thinking about the words composed within those few short paragraphs. It was no wonder why Minerva had hardly spoken to her following that dreaded evening all those years ago; for she had. She had said everything that had needed to have been said; only for Hermione not to respond and appear as though, she didn't feel the same way.

Now, twenty years later, she didn't feel the same way for the woman; she felt more and less all at once for she still yearned to touch her – the love she once felt for her had been replaced with a deep affection. Because, she had moved on.

_Hadn't she?_ She questioned herself as her eyes bored into Minerva's, waiting for an acknowledgment so she could ask to speak with her for a moment in private. Her thoughts and feelings as scattered as the wind save for one – her burning need to speak with Minerva.

Finally, green eyes shifted to momentarily meet hers before skirting off to find another's; Hermione stood. "Do you mind if I have a word with you in private?"

Minerva's features remained as they always did, poised and dignified belaying little of her true emotions. "Of course." Minerva easily stated.

Both women strode down the hall, little conversation occurring between them; one wondering what the other wished to speak with them about as it had been years since they had spoken privately, the other…wondering how to broach a topic that in some ways was best to remain dormant – as in either case, she doubted the others heart could take much more.

_

* * *

_

_A/N: What do you say to someone twenty years later after learning the truth?_


	13. Your' Family

Chapter 12 ~ _Your _Family

To say Hermione had been surprised that the Head of St. Mungos strode from her office giving the two women privacy was an understatement. But, it was obvious, that Minerva and the eccentric Administrator were friends; long time friends by the open dialogue that had been exchanged between the two.

Minerva waited until the door latched closed before turning to the wall, and asking Dily's for privacy as well; and with a sigh Dily's nodded. She knew from the look etched upon the elder witch's face that she wanted privacy; she just hoped Filius wasn't still in a meeting with Sybil – she did so despise having to overhear meetings with the woman.

"Now," Minerva turned back to Hermione, concern lacing her once prominent features. "What ever is the matter, dear?"

Hermione reached into her robes, pulling the yellowing letter from its depths. "I have only just received and read this." She whispered, heart hammering in her chest. "It seems to have been delivered that night at the Burrow; as I had gone there to break off my engagement to Ron…"

"Put it away, Hermione." She breathed out, voice strained. "Those words were written a lifetime ago."

"I am and always have been far more interested in the feelings behind them." She felt her own voice thicken. "Can you honestly stand there and say that you _don't_ care for me?" A tremble lacing her words, "Because I can't. Damn it to hell, I thought I was over you. Have been telling myself that for twenty years. Have ignored the way my heart flutters when your eyes momentarily catch mine and see a buried longing in your eyes; believing that it has been my imagination. Then I got this…" She shook the parchment for emphasis, "_This!_"

"What do you want to hear Hermione?" A sound of defeat laced her Scottish brogue. "You are a married woman, with two children; and that…" She pointed to the yellow parchment she had penned her heart and soul onto all those years ago, "Was written before you had made a commitment and pledged your life; moving on. Do you not think it was hard for me to move on as well? To watch _you_ get married and have children?" She sighed, purging a long buried truth from her soul. "Yes, I do have and will undoubtedly always have feelings for you; Hermione. But, you need to let the words contained in that letter remain there."

Hermione's jaw inadvertently slackened, "How can you say that?"

"Because that letter was written twenty years ago."

"And the feelings that I have for you?"

"You have been happy and content in your marriage…"

Hermione edged incrementally closer, "I don't want contentment;" She breathed, "I've never wanted it." Tentatively her hand reached upwards, shaking fingers barely trailing along Minerva's jaw. "I've only ever wanted _you_."

Minerva's heart sped up at the fleeting touch, momentarily deadening her senses and thought; "I can't…" She took a step back, clearing her throat as she fought for an ounce of solidarity beneath her. "Neither can you."

"Minerva…"

"You're married…"

"Kiss me." Hermione took two steps closer, "Like you wanted to all those years ago."

"You know as well as I," Minerva whispered, "That it won't be one kiss."

Hermione's eyes leveled upon her lips, "I know." She involuntarily moistened her own, "And right now, I just…need to feel you. Your love."

"Hermione, please…don't ask this of me." Her mighty reserves crumbling to the want, the need, the underlining desire coursing through her. And she felt herself leaning forward, murmuring against moist lips, "Think of Ronald; your children…"

"For just one moment, I'm being selfish and giving in to my desires…" She ran her hand up Minerva's neck and into the graying silken strands of the hair along her temple.

And Minerva could no longer stop herself…as her left hand snaked into Hermione's chestnut locks and both women succumbed to the moment. Lips gently sliding across the others as they slowly gave way to a second and third kiss; before lips separated and their tongues were met with moans. Fingers threading and drawing the other closer, a second moan being wrenched from Hermione's depths as Minerva pulled away. Hermione stared into liquid emerald eyes, feeling a gush of warmth pool at her center.

"Know that I've never stopped wanting you, Hermione." Her thick cadence rumbling between them, "However, you are not mine to have."

"I'll get a divorce." She whispered.

Long elegant fingers slid across Hermione's face, a sadness lacing her green eyes. "No," She shook her head as her fingers fell from her jaw. "You won't."

"I want …" Her fingers brushed across Minerva's lips.

"As do I." Minerva thickly replied as her eyes fluttered close as a tear slipped down her cheek. "However, you had better go."

"Minerva…"

Her jaw rippled as she shook her head, tear filled eyes opening and meeting brown ones. They held the others for a long moment before Minerva's broken voice stated, "You have my heart, Hermione. Never forget that." A sad smile graced her face, "But _your_ family is waiting for you."

_

* * *

_

_A/N: The evil imp perched on my shoulder is vying for continued angst…_


	14. Dazed

Chapter 13 ~ Dazed

She didn't remember the walk back to Molly's room. Nor the commentary made by the occupants regarding her pale features upon her return; or the look she received by her lack of answer to where Minerva was and why she didn't return. For she was…in a complete and utter daze.

She vaguely noticed the dialogue being exchanged between the Weasley family – _her_ family.

The pronoun ringing in her consciousness.

_Her _family.

_Her…_

She could feel the moistness gathering along the edge of her eyes. How difficult it was to breath.

She didn't want to lose her family.

Nor did she want to lose – _her._

And that was exactly what was happening; she was losing _her_, again.

She went to move, to stand…but found the days conflicting emotions too much; tears beginning to stream down her face and her husband embraced her in his arms, not really understanding but offering his support none the less.

* * *

_A/N: I'm going to finish this story and then pick Bonding back up again. As I said, trying to close out all my open stories. So, please be patient._


	15. Irony

Chapter 14 ~ Irony

Minerva poured herself a fifth drink. Hand shaking as she set the decanter down; blood still thrumming from the kiss she had shared earlier. With ghostlike fingers, she raised her hand until her lips skimmed across her flesh.

"Why the hell did you even kiss her?" Minerva muttered as she grasped the tumbler with a bit more force than intended, causing several droplets of whisky to slosh onto her hand.

A curse about to fall from her lips regarding her own carelessness when the brass knocker sounded through her Manor. To have a visitor this evening, after she had given the elves off not wishing to have company; and Minerva couldn't help but frown at the irony of life.

Shaking her head, she took a sip of the golden substance; before setting back down and sweeping from the den. With deft fingers, she quickly swept up her hair; charming it in place before transfiguring a quill, a piece of parchment and other odds and ends into hair pins as she strode ahead.

It was probably Kingsley or Filius; as she had not owled either back upon returning today. Hopefully, neither wanted advice this evening; she was _not_ in the mood.

The lights sprung to life as she descended the stairs, and she could feel her already sour mood worsen as she crossed the foyer. Long fingers extended outward, and with a snap of her hand; the lock snapped and the door creaked open – and her breath stopped as her eyes met Hermione's red-rimmed brown ones.

"Hermione."

"I can't lose you." She said while stepping forward, not giving Minerva time to react as her fingers wrapped around the elder witch's waist bringing their bodies together.

And Minerva responded without thought, not worrying about Hermione's family, her children, even her husband as she gave in to her body's craving and crashed her lips against Hermione's; momentarily taking the other woman by surprise before she responded with equal fervor.

* * *

_a/n: :)_


	16. A Dream?

Chapter 15 ~ A Dream?

Hermione's finger lightly traced along the aged scar to the left of Minerva's right shoulder; it was one of four. She knew the day those marks had been left.

There weren't many in Britain who didn't know of that dreaded day, but she fought back a smile at how few had probably ever seen the marks themselves. Idly her hand slid farther down, caressing her lower back and gently traced another long scar.

"Don't look." Minerva murmured, sleep still lacing her voice. "I'm old and riddled with scars." She went to pull up the sheet, but felt Hermione shift and her fingers wrap around her hand.

"They mark your life." Hermione breathed against her skin, as her hand slid up Minerva's back; before capturing her rosy lips with her own. "Sleep well?" She asked gently pulling away, eyes sparkling with the firelight.

"Have you been up this whole time?" Minerva questioned as she slipped her hand lovingly down Hermione's side.

"What if I fall asleep and awaken to find this has all been a dream?"

The edges of Minerva's eyes crinkled as a rare smile broke across her face, before her soft lilt rumbled from her depths; "Does this feel like a dream?" She leaned forward ghostly touching her lips.

"Hmm…" Hermione murmured as she melted into her lover, loving the way Minerva's lips felt against her own. "No." She finally replied.

"But, I am curious as to what tomorrow will bring?" Minerva stretched out, fingers remaining lightly upon Hermione's waist; eyes remaining inquisitive and open as she finally voiced a question that she should have asked _before_ they ended up in her bed. Because, as dawn approached; so did the consequences.

* * *

_A/N: Hope you enjoyed..._


	17. Mistakes

Chapter 16 ~ Mistakes

"I spoke with him before I came here." She breathed out, a pensive expression passing over her face as she recalled her words, "And told him…about the evening, my ever present feelings, how I had planned on breaking off our engagement and the letter you had sent, and Molly had intercepted." Her eyes tearing up, "And that I was coming to see you."

"What else did he say?" Minerva gently prodded, arms encircling her lover.

"He was in shock," Hermione laid back into her lover's embrace, "So not much."

"But as you didn't return home last evening," Minerva inadvertently tightened her arms, "He knows."

"Yes." Hermione whispered feeling tears burn against her eyes; "I'm sure he does."

"And yet he didn't follow." Minerva's lips kissed along her neck. "Or try to stop you."

"I doubt he'd have been able to; although…I've made a mess of everything." Hermione admitted, wishing that last night had happened over twenty years ago; and that the consequences from their passionate evening weren't as far reaching.

"As have I." Minerva murmured against her skin. "But dwelling on it does little to correct mistakes."

Hermione turned her head, causing a tear to strike Minerva's shoulder. "Is that how you feel, that this was a mistake?"

"Not telling you in person was a mistake. Ignoring my feelings for you was a mistake. Letting you in last night was a mistake." Minerva didn't let go of Hermione as she finished, "However, making love to you last night, was many things Hermione; none of which were a mistake."

* * *

Oxox

_A/N: Don't be too gleeful, the imp isn't quite done playing._


	18. A Beautiful Memory

Chapter 17 ~ A Beautiful Memory

Minerva wasted no time as she purposefully marched to her destination; her concerns for the woman's welfare abated. Helena had assured her that Molly was stable and could handle _some _stress. Granted, she hadn't relayed exactly the nature of her pending conversation with the Weasley matriarch; she was sure it _would _cause some stress.

She found herself turning into the room, a half dozen pair of eyes glancing upwards; warmth,

ease, comfort lacing their expressions…until it was quickly replaced with concern and worry. No doubt from the frostiness of her expression. "Everyone out." Her contralto voice cutting off any and all greetings and salutations; causing the room to openly stare at the venerable Headmistress, paralyzed by her demand.

There was no humor. No sparkle. Just an iron will command; and her larger than life presence. Percy about jumped out of his chair as she followed with the singular word. "Now."

Arthur stepped forward, "Minerva, what is the matter? Molly has just recovered from…"

Fire laced green eyes leveled upon the younger wizard, "I've already spoken with Helena; and was assured her condition has stabilized. Now," Her thick cadence rumbling over the occupants. "Out."

His back bristled, "I won't leave her…"

"Very well." Her glacial gaze landed upon Percy, George and then swept to Harry and Ginny. "The rest of you have five seconds."

She didn't have to finish the sentence, the other four were gone and the door closed thankful that whatever was about to be discussed; they were not there to bear witness.

Harry kissed the top of Ginny's head as the group went to get some lunch. "I've never seen McGonagall so furious."

"Me either." George muttered, "Even with some of the pranks Fred and I used to pull."

"Wonder what happened?" Ginny asked, concerned. "Think it has to do with Hermione? She was pretty upset when she returned from talking with her last evening."

Percy shrugged, "Don't know. Maybe Ron does."

"I'm sure; as he's been a right git to her of late." George met his brother's look, "Don't act as though you haven't noticed, either Perc."

"Even so," Harry opted to side step the whole of the conversation. "It doesn't track as to why Minerva would be so irate. " Harry pulled his pocket watch out, "Nor…why either he and or Hermione aren't here yet."

* * *

Xoxo

* * *

Molly's brow furloughed, blue eyes staring honestly into green. "I have no idea what you are talking about Minerva. I did not abscond with a letter addressed to Hermione." She turned to her husband, "Do you know what she is talking about, dear?"

"I did receive a letter late one evening," He held up his hands, halting the fury for a moment. "However, I gave it to Ginny to give to her; she had just arrived and was speaking with Ron. He assured me he would give it to her; as I was going to bed."

Minerva felt a wave of relief; her friends did not try to sabotage her and Hermione's life. It appeared as though their daughter had.

Molly could see her friend's conflict, "Minerva," Green eyes drew to hers, "What was in the letter?"

Seconds passed and the normally stoic woman's features softened, "An admission of love." She whispered, "One it seems would have been better done in person."

Arthur's hand involuntarily tightened around his wife's, "Do you still love her?"

"Her happiness is my paramount concern."

"Minerva," Molly moved forward, "They have been married for close to twenty years, have a family, friends, a beautiful life."

"One that was built upon a lie." Minerva countered, "And that your daughter has perpetuated."

"Please, don't…take that away from them."

"It is not mine to take or leave; nor yours Molly." Her eyes hardened, "However, it is time for the truth to be heard."

"What of their marriage?"

An image of Hermione writhing beneath her, along with the faint sighs and whispered moans sprung to mind; and Minerva pushed the beautiful memory aside. "That is for Hermione and Ronald to decide."

"But you hope she chooses to leave him." Molly whispered, almost cutting. "For you."

"No." She quietly answered, shame prickling up her spine for what had already happened between them. For while it was a memory she would always cherish… "Because she is a wife and a mother; and a part of a family. One that she cannot lose, no matter what her heart wants." She knew it could only be that, a memory.

* * *

Xoxo

_A/N: Oops, it wasn't Molly._


	19. Admissions

Chapter 18 Admissions

"No!" Tears slipped down his lashes, "That is not the same!"

"What makes it so different, Ron? That I know about it, or that you were caught?"

He bristled, "I …" His cheeks flamed red. "I still love you!"

"And I you."

"But you SLEPT with her!" He shrieked.

"And what of Oliver?" She thundered back, "Does it sound better if I say that you Fucked him?"

"It wasn't what you think. I never…"

"Don't!" She snapped, a loud crack reverberating across the room as her magic slicing his cheek. "Even think about it. Not now."

He swallowed, hard. "Hermione, it was only once."

"Per week." She rebuked. "For the last four years."

_How did she find out? _He thought, desperate to hide the shameful truth."I swear it wasn't…"

"Thursday nights." Hermione's voice taking on a gentler tone, "I just want the truth, Ron. No different than you. And, it seems; we have a lot to talk about."

"How'd you find out?" He asked while sitting heavily onto the chair as he plied pressure to his cheek with a rag.

"I'm your wife." She whispered, anger practically gone as she took a seat across from him at the kitchen table.

"And why did ya never say anything?"

"Because, every evening you came home to me; and if you got something from him that you couldn't get from me. I was alright with it." She fought back the tears, "But this last year…it's been different between us."

"Is that why you went to see her? Because of me and…" His lover's name barely able to leave his lips. "Oliver? That I haven't been home as much."

"No, I told you last night why I went to see her."

Ron gave a grave nod, "That was true?"

"Here." Hermione floated the letter to him. "Read for yourself."

Several seconds went by as he skimmed the contents of the letter before glancing up; tears in his eyes. "Do you love her?"

Brown teary eyes met his, "I don't think I ever stopped. And you," She forced the question from her lips. "Do you love Oliver?"

For years he had lied to his wife, and somehow found the courage to finally reveal the truth. "Yes, I do."

The grandfather clock in dining room chimed, twelve o'clock had come and gone; leaving a deep awkwardness between husband and wife in its wake.

"What now?" Ron asked breaking the stillness.

"I don't know." Hermione stood, stopping in front of the cabinet and pouring herself a generous measure of whisky; "Want a glass?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"Only if it's a double."

"I guess," She poured a second tumbler full as generous as she had for herself before turning back around, "We need to decide what we want to do for not only us, but also regarding the children."

"What would you do if we weren't married?"

"Probably the same as you." She replied as he took his glass. "Explore what my heart craves, but you and I both know what our divorce will mean to the family and the children."

He raised his glass to his lips, pausing briefly. "I doubt either of us would be included in the family functions, and I don't think…I'm ready for that." He took a long swallow before finishing, "Let alone telling anyone else of my…exploits so to speak."

"Me either."

"Then," He stood, "I propose our happiness laced within everyone else's perceptions."

"For a while," She nodded, "Fine. But I'm still going to speak with your mother regarding the letter."

He shook his head, "I don't see it. Mum wouldn't meddle."

"Someone did, and by God I'm going to get a pound of flesh from whomever did or Merlin help them if Minerva gets to them first."

"Don't take this wrong, honey." A light shone in the back of Ron's eyes. "I'd rather face you any day versus McGonagall."

"Minerva." Hermione corrected, and when he went to open his mouth; she continued on. "When it's just you and I, please do try. It feels weird hearing you call her by her last name."

"Thinking of the two of you…you know…is weird."

"And it wasn't for me regarding you and Oliver?"

He held up his hands signaling defeat, a new calmness and layer of understanding exuding from them. "Do you think we can really make this work?"

"For a short time," She nodded, "Yes. I do. The kids are at Hogwarts, we can meet intermittently to keep up the illusion of our marriage to everyone else. It'll be seven month before Rose and Hugo come home, neither are inclined to return for the Holidays; so barring family events we should have ample time to sort out our own personal relationships."

"What if we wait until they graduate from Hogwarts?"

"Ron, Hugo is only in his second year. That would be another five years…"

* * *

xoxo

_A/N: Did you really think that she and Ron have been happily married for twenty years?_


	20. Betrayal

Chapter 19 ~ Betrayal

Ginny sputtered before her irate brother, furious husband and utterly enraged best friend. A best friend who…she had betrayed twenty years prior.

"Tell me you didn't do this to her." Ron's voice shaking in fury, "To me."

"Ginny?" Harry questioned hoping beyond hope that Ron and Hermione had been faulty in their accusation, but at seeing her shoulders sag; knew their words had been true. Ginny had meddled.

"I…had…" Tears splashed down her lashes, "Dad had given it to me. And I was going to give it to you, I had been curious as you…" She turned to Ron, "She was going to break up with you and you would have been devastated."

"More or less than now, Ginny?"

"I trusted you!" Hermione lashed out, her magic pushing the other woman backwards. "And you…you…damn it! What if I had done that to you? To Harry?"

"You loved him, and I…thought…"

"You didn't think!" Hermione screamed, "You meddled with what YOU wanted!"

Ginny straightened her back, "And if you and Ron hadn't got together, you'd never have had Rose or Hugo; your marriage…"

"Which neither of us wants to be in!" Hermione countered taking both Harry and Ginny by surprise by her comment. "And we are. A subterfuge as it were, one that you are going to help us with or so help me God, my nieces and nephews will never see their mother again."

"I didn't know…"

"That your dearest brother has been seeing someone for almost five years?"

"Hermione…" Ron hissed at her, "I thought we talked…"

"We did." Her curt voice ending his, "And since Ginny thought she should take it upon herself to meddle; I want her to know what her damning good intentions have led to." An understanding passed between blue and brown eyes, and with the faintest of nods; Hermione returned her full attention to Ginny. "How would it feel to know that I haven't had sex in just over four years until last night! No," Hermione snapped, "You think we have a perfect life, because we don't air our arguments; they remain behind closed doors as they should. And for the last twenty years, we've been trying to make it work, trying to put everyone else's happiness above our own. For a while, yes; you could say we were happy and then it became a contented routine as we watched all of our friends growing older and their love richer." She scoffed, "And ours grew dimmer. And dimmer. What have you to say? That I never got to spend time with Minerva and Ron with his lover; growing older with the ones we love? And while I wouldn't trade Rose or Hugo for the world, what if I wanted to raise a child with Minerva? Or even use muggle technology and have a child with her? See and be with her while she was the Headmistress? Did you know why she left Hogwarts; I'm sure it never entered your mind other to question past the official resignation statement. She left because of my child; wanting to keep her distance from me, in case she said or did something that would betray her feelings. You robbed Minerva, Ron, and me…of countless experiences that…no amount of apologizing nor regret will ever be returned to us. You stole twenty years of choices, twenty years of memories…" Her eyes glowed with undulating fury, "Because you bloody well meddled in affairs that weren't yours to meddle in. I loved her! Still do, and thankfully…" The rage coursing through her becoming slightly tempered by the love she felt for Minerva, "There is a modicum of hope for our mutual happiness."

"I never meant to hurt you." The pain in Ginny's voice was palpable. "Either of you."

"Then you should have given me the letter, despite your personal feelings regarding Minerva or my happiness being found in another woman's arms and not your brother's." Her voice cut the air, leaving a red welt across Ginny's cheek. "Twenty years, Ginny." Tears dripped off her long lashes, "I should banish you to some forsaken island and come back in twenty years; after all, that's what friend's are for."

* * *

Xoxo

_A/N: How do you get back 20 years of missed opportunities, choices, and dreams?_


	21. A story

Chapter 20 ~ A Story

Ron kissed her cheek, "Till Thursday."

"Be safe." She whispered against his hand, and with a nod; he strode away from her. She waited for him to go, before she envisioned the glorious Manor and with a faint pop; was gone.

She and Minerva hadn't spoken since their conversation earlier in the day; and it had been exceptionally brief, merely to relay that Molly and Arthur were not the guilty party. Rather Ginerva. She had been aghast, disbelieving; and in a burning rage, ended the fire call before rousing Ron and heading over to the Potter residence.

With shaking hands, she lifted the brass knocker; a lot had occurred since last evening. Her world; marriage; whole life had been tipped on its axis – and she had not had an opportunity to impart what was happening with her marriage to Minerva, nor did she know if the elder witch would be keen on the notion.

_Probably not._ Hermione sighed, fighting back the tears; and longing for a warm embrace to engulf her and enable her to take a moment's respite.

Unlike last eve, a tiny elf stood waiting at the entrance. "State your purpose this evening."

"Will you please inform Minerva that Hermione is here to see her?"

"If you will remain here for a moment." Tily went to snap her fingers, but a familiar voice swept over the vaulted ceilings.

"I heard." Minerva strode forward, "Thank you Tily."

Tily gave a solitary nod and then was gone, leaving the two witches alone.

"I…" Hermione swallowed, "Do you mind if I come in?"

Minerva's gaze flickered over Hermione's shoulder and then back to the woman, with a bow of her head and a gesturing arm she bid the younger witch entry. "Hermione, while I enjoy your company, I cannot…"

"Ron has been seeing someone for years and I…confronted him this morning after leaving here." She trudged on, ignoring the way her heart hammered in her chest or the way her hands shook. "We spoke about our future, what we wanted and what was best."

"And, what did you both decide?" Minerva questioned, afraid of what the answer would be; believing she knew what it needed to be.

Brown eyes sparkled in the foyers twilight, "I'm going to tell you a story…" She took a step closer, "Perhaps you can tell me how it all works out."

_

* * *

Oxox_

_A/N: The little imp was content on leaving the story finished here; thoughts regarding an epilogue or is it better left to one's imagination?_


	22. Private Collection

Chapter 21 ~ Private Collection

Rose distinctly recalled the day her mother and father told her and Hugo that they were seeing other people, and now that they were older, would be getting a divorce. While, the divorce hadn't shocked her; their respective partners…had. Especially, her mother's.

She hadn't really known the woman her mother had been with; and what she did know of her…well, she was…intimidating. Extremely. Worldly eyes, immaculate speech, crisp handmade clothes and seemingly all knowing. There wasn't much the woman, Minerva McGonagall didn't know or hadn't been exposed too. She had been the Headmistress of Hogwarts, worked with Albus Dumbledore for sixty years and was his Deputy for the better part of half of them. But, while she had been driven to new levels of shyness, her brother; had flourished – thankfully forcing her to get over her own self deluded misconceptions.

Minerva had been nothing like she had expected. The history books never spoke of her uncanny wit or her endless capacity of love. But over the course of forty-two years, she learned the truth behind her mother's happiness and about the woman who caused it – Minerva McGonagall.

For forty-two years, she had known; only to find out that they had been together five years longer than she had known. Forty-seven. And then one day, a freak accident; and they were both gone, having saved a group of muggle children at the cost of their own lives.

Rose wiped the brewing tears away; she would not cry. If her brother could remain strong. So could she.

"It's hard to imagine them, gone." Hugo gently rubbed the bridge of her back.

Rose bit her lip nodding, "I just…figured, they'd always be here."

He kissed the top of her head, "Me too." He held her for a long minute, before turning back to the desk. "What are you doing with the books?"

"Figured, I'd keep them with the Manor."

He nodded, picking up a weathered journal and with a frown flipped the cover open having not recognized it. A piece of paper fluttered out, his eyes skimming the writing across the interior of the journal.

_Hermione Jean Granger – Weasley - McGonagall_

"I think this was mom's journal." He said as Rose carefully opened the yellow parchment. "What's it say?"

Rose cleared her throat…

_Hermione,_

_ I am a fool. _

_ Five years prior, you asked for an opportunity – one I could only imagine, and shamefully at that. However, you never did listen to my response before walking away. And perhaps, it is high time you did._

_ As I said, I was flattered and did and still do, believe you should seek companionship to someone a bit closer to you in age. However, I have often found that the heart does not care for such superficial idiosyncrasies; as I do care for you rather deeply despite the vast age difference. _

_ Through the years, I have oft wondered what would have happened if I had gone after you that eve. If I had said yes without the warning._

_ And while I cannot undo time, I can undo the mistake._

_ I believe, I love you. _

_ I would like an opportunity to see if the tension as you say is a transitory feeling or something more substantial. Of course, if and only if you are willing._

_ Know that my curiosity burns to know how your lips will feel as they skim across my flesh; as they still tingle from the brief kiss already shared while I breathlessly await your response._

_ Minerva_

Rose lifted her gaze up, "I think this is perhaps best kept in the private collection." Voice thick with emotion as she folded the letter back up and carefully handed it to Hugo who placed it back into their mother's diary before closing the cherished book and tucking it into the box marked personal.

After all, some things were better left private.

Confessions of the heart being one of them.

* * *

Oxox

_A/N: As always, I do hope you enjoyed and greatly appreciate your patience with the large hiatus between starting and finishing this piece. _


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